


An Unintended Guest

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Zine Collection [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Insults, M/M, Memories, Understanding, learning to live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Mako doesn’t know what possessed him to interfere in the bar brawl, or why he had invited Junkrat into his house. All that he knows is that he had, and now he has to deal with the consequences.





	An Unintended Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Roadrat Charity Zine 2018.

Mako doesn’t know what possessed him to interfere in the bar brawl. His eyes slide to Junkrat, grateful that his mask hides the way his lips curl into an unhappy snarl as he studies the smaller man. He’d encountered him before- usually heard him long before he saw him, but he’d never paid him much mind. He was trouble for sure, and there was something about the wildness in the amber eyes that spoke of someone who had seen too much.

Wasn’t that true for all of them though?

    However, they weren’t friends, and whilst the promise of treasure was tempting after months of getting by on what coin he could scrounge through selling scrap, it wasn’t enough to make him throw away his peaceful existence. So why had he? Even the orders to be a good little piggy shouldn’t have been enough to set him off, after all, he’d heard them countless times before and probably would again. He doesn’t have an answer to that question, feeling a headache beginning to take root behind his eyes. What had possessed him to invite the other man into his home?

     It’s been a long time since he’s let someone this close, and he tries not to let his thoughts drift to happier times and a house full of life, instead glancing at Junkrat and the tattered bag slung over his shoulder. Junkrat looks unfazed, still jabbering on about this and that although Mako has since stopped listening. However, despite the chatter and the wild grin still firmly in place, there’s something…lost about him and Mako groans, knowing that’s what had hooked him. He’s always had a soft spot for lost things.

   He can’t take the offer back now, but he retreats into his usual quiet as he leads the way out and into the desolate landscape beyond Junkertown. Now even Junkrat quietens, gazing around with haunted eyes that Mako knows too well, and for half a second, he considers saying something.

   The dilapidated farmhouse is a welcome sight as it emerges from the dark, the lantern he keeps offering a small beacon to guide them. Mako knows the path by heart by now, but he hears Junkrat curse and stumble on the uneven footing and he grunts a belated warning as he reaches the step, unlocking the door with a metallic creak.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Mako doesn’t miss the sarcasm as he swings round to face Junkrat, his bulk easily blocking the door as he lifts a hand- not missing Junkrat’s flinch before pointing outside where the chilly night was approaching. The message is clear – if you don’t like it, you can stay out there. He can see the argument building, but just as quickly it drains away and Junkrat shakes his head, offering him what he obviously thinks is a winning grin. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.” It’s enough for now and he steps aside, letting Junkrat into the house and hoping that he isn’t going to regret this more than he already is.

 

**

     He ignores the chatter that starts up again as he closes the door, pointing out the rooms with monosyllabic grunts. The house has fallen into disrepair and there’s scrap piling up in the corners, not that Junkrat seems bothered as he eyes several of the heaps with interest.

 “I’ll clear out the backroom tomorrow,” he mutters as they reach the top floor. Most of the rooms have been filled with anything he’s been able to salvage- an attempt to fill the emptiness. The thought of sharing his own leaves him uneasy, and he falters, considering whether it’s too late before leading the way into his room. This one has some semblance of order. Ignoring Junkrat’s watchful gaze, he finds enough to set up a makeshift bed for the other man on the far side of the room.

“You sleep there…” He points at it as soon as he’s done before moving to his own bed, wanting nothing more than to end this day.

“Thanks mate.”

    There’s a clatter of metal, Junkrat muttering to himself and Mako tenses when he hears something being set on the floor, springs and gears groaning as they settle into place, and the next thing he hears is the makeshift bed rustling and creaking as Junkrat settles and then silence more. He doesn’t relax, twitching with every sound from the other bed and from the restless movements and he has a feeling that sleep will be a long time coming for them both.

***

     That first night passed uneventfully, although as he had expected neither of them had slept well.

     Mako cleared out one of the other rooms, wanting to put some distance between them. If he was honest, he’d been half expecting to wake up and find Junkrat long gone, even hoped for it, wanting nothing more to return to his quiet existence. However, Junkrat had been there, as loud and obnoxious as he had been the night before and Mako begins to get an inkling that his decision in the bar might have more consequences than he’d thought. It's tempting to tell Junkrat to leave so that he can go back to his quiet.

 He doesn’t.

    The smallest room is cleared out and Junkrat takes up residence there, which at least gives them both some breathing room. However, it’s not enough to ease the awkward pattern they settle into in the following days, orbiting each other, both wary and testing the waters, waiting for the inadvertent collision.

     Mako is used to solitude- to quiet and only the occasional brush with people and Junkrat is used to noise and chaos. Neither, of them know what to make of the other, and it’s not a surprise when Junkrat begins pushing boundaries. It’s there in the little digs, insults masked in teasing words that needle him; comments on his house, his affinity for pigs or the quiet that he cloaks himself in. They’re easy enough to brush off- he’s heard worse- but less easy to deal with is the invasion of privacy. Junkrat has no compunctions about rooting through whatever he finds. For the most part, it doesn’t bother him, but there are mementoes hidden away that he fears being discovered. It leaves him jumpy, always trying to keep one eye on Junkrat. It’s tense and stressful, making him quieter and feeding into the cycle, until they seem to dance in never-ending circles around one another.

     Then there’s the way Junkrat watches Mako, both hunter and prey. It’s like he expects him to lash out at any moment, and whilst there have been certain times when he was tempted, Mako is a man of his word. They’d made an agreement and for now that guaranteed the other man’s safety. It didn’t however, stop the frustrations from bubbling over when he hit his limit.

 “So....” He tensed at the drawled word, fork bending under the force of his grip as he waited for whatever taunt was sure to follow. “Bacon for breakfast?”

      It could’ve been an innocent question, although Mako knows even before he glances at Junkrat that he’s testing the boundaries again, confirmed by the challenging gleam in his eyes. It’s certainly not the first dig Junkrat has made, nor will it be the last and Mako doesn’t know what makes it so different this time, but before he’s aware of what he’s doing- he’s already on his feet, the table rocking as he slams his fist down on it

 “Enough!” It’s the first time that he’s raised his voice, and he’s not sure which of them is more surprised. Junkrat recoils and he growls under his breath, one hand checking his pocket for the few coins he still has to his name, before he turns and stalks for the door, ignoring the sputtering noise from behind him. It occurs to him that he shouldn’t be the one to leave, but he can’t bring himself to care, needing to get away and gather his thoughts.

“Where are you going?!” Of course, Junkrat couldn’t just leave it at that and Mako tenses at the rattle of a chair being thrust back, followed by the odd harmony of barefoot and wooden prosthetic steps against the floor.

“Out,” he grunted, making it as monosyllabic and off-putting as could, and he’s bitterly unsurprised when Junkrat either misses or ignores his tone, hobbling forward almost eagerly.

“Great, I can –.”

“No.” Mako cut him off, finally turning to look at him, just in time to see the eager grin fading from his narrow features at the blunt reply. “Stay.” He pointed at the ground, before turning away and opening the door, the noise enough to drag Junkrat out of his shock as he lets loose an offended noise before he began to grumble, deliberately loud. Mako heard ‘pig’ several times amongst the babbled words and with a grunt he stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him.

 *

    The walk into town helped calm him, the quiet leaving him feeling like he could finally breathe. It was the first time he had been truly alone since that night in the bar, and he realized how keenly he missed the solitude and how much the constant wariness had been playing on him. It was a realisation that he wasn’t going to be able to forget and he sighed, flexing his hands, and trying not to imagine throttling Junkrat.

     He’d been half-expecting to get turned away at the gate and he could see the temptation in Bruce’s eyes. However, they’d known each other a long time, and a tossed coin had him looking the other way as Mako slipped through. Coming here was a bad idea but coming back to the bar was an even worse one, but Mako was a creature of habit and after days of living on the edge, he wanted some normality even if it came at the cost of another brawl.

     Silence greeted his entrance to the bar and Mako stilled, expressionless, even as his eyes roved across the patrons. No one moved, and silently he headed for the bar. He could feel eyes following him- a sensation he was used to. Eyes always followed him wherever he went, because even in this misfit community he’d never fit in. Today they were wary, no doubt remembering the damage he had caused before, but there was a hunger behind it that had his hand dropping to the hook hung at his waist in warning.

 “Mako,” Noah standing behind the bar looked… not _unhappy_ to see him as he pushed a bottle of beer across the counter. Mako nodded his thanks, half his attention still on the people behind him. Taking a sip, he glanced at the noticeboard behind the bar, not reacting as he found himself staring at a large picture of Junkrat before his gaze shifted to his own image, smaller but still prominent next to it.  Noah followed his gaze and sighed, nodding before turning back to him. “You shouldn’t be here; the Queen isn’t happy with you.”  It wasn’t a threat despite his tone, but a warning.

     Mako nodded, unsurprised by the news. He’d been unpopular before, the black mark against his name for his actions in the past and helping Junkrat firmly placing him on the wrong side. “He’s not worth it,” Noah mutters, leaning in and Mako is glad that his mask hides the temptation that he knows would be written across his face if only for a moment. “And it’s not too late, hand him over or take his head, and you’d be welcomed back with open arms.”

     Mako almost chuckled, knowing that he had never truly been ‘welcomed’ at least not beyond people like Bruce and Noah, the old-timers as they were often referred to. Still, he had to admit that it was tempting. He didn’t care about the reward, although the amount had him blinking as he glanced at the board again. It was enough to make life a little easier for a good while. However, he had never been motivated by money. No, the temptation stemmed from everything else. From the loss of solitude to the constant insults from his ‘guest’ and the growing realisation of just how much had changed. He took another sip before nodding.

  “I’ll think about it.”

 *

     Mako stayed out most of the day, drinking his way through what little money he’d had left and in the back of his mind he knew it was foolish. Still, sitting here, alcohol burning the back of his throat and hostile eyes fixed on his back, was preferable to going home and having to face Junkrat and the thoughts that had been whirling around since he’d seen the bounty.

 It would be so easy.

    The thought had been gnawing at him all day, and now that it was finally dark, Noah cutting him off, he was staggering home. The thought rang loudly through his head.

 Hand him over or take his head.

     He was caught by surprise when he stumbled against the door frame, his thoughts having consumed him for the entire walk. It took him several attempts to get the door open, already bracing himself for the explosion of noise that would follow if Junkrat was still up, but the kitchen was empty … and trashed. He stared at the junk piled up on the kitchen table for a long moment- the haze of drink beginning to clear now- and in its wake came anger, followed by a growing resolve as his gaze flickered upwards.

It would be so easy.

     His feet had carried him to the stairs before he had realised it, climbing them as quietly as he could. He turned and headed for the room that Junkrat was using, gaze lingering for a moment on the paler spot where a name-plate had once hung, the aching pang of grief familiar after all this time. However, the sight of it helps to strengthen his resolve, and with a deep breath, he steps forward, nudging the door open and stepping inside.

     It’s easy enough to side-step the trap laid out in the doorway, it’s an old move and he’d expected it. However, what he doesn’t expect as he takes a couple of steps closer, is the dull clunk of Junkrat’s makeshift grenade-launcher, or to find himself staring down its muzzle, as Junkrat sat up, covers pooling around him.

 “I’d like to see you try it.” It’s spoken with quiet menace, Junkrat’s eyes gleaming in the half-light from the lantern in the hallway and for a moment Mako considers it. He’s not stupid, he knows the smaller man is dangerous, just as he can imagine the damage that launcher could do to him and the house, and part of him wants to risk it.

     However, there’s something that stops him. He’s not sure if it’s because of the threat to his home, the danger to the memories that he still holds close, or if it’s something about the way Junkrat has huddled in on himself, ready to fire and yet looking…almost hurt. All he knows is that his resolve is flagging, and after several minutes of debating with himself he grunted and turned away, feeling the wary eyes tracking his every movement and easily able to imagine the launcher doing the same, and it was only after he had quietly closed the door behind him that he heard Junkrat huff a sigh of relief. A sound he echoed as he retreated, taking extra care to barricade his room for the night.

 ***

    There was an uneasy silence in the house the next day, and Mako was unsurprised to see the launcher slung across Junkrat’s shoulders when he ventured down to the kitchen in search of food. The temptation was still there, but it was dulled, no longer fuelled by alcohol or the burning need for solitude that had consumed him the day before and he made no effort to move closer, instead quietly nudging a plate across to Junkrat. He didn’t miss the way sharp eyes watched until he had begun eating, but he didn’t react, eating with a single-minded focus until he saw the other man finally reaching for his plate, trying not to acknowledge the peculiar ache that grew as the silence persisted.

 “There’s a price on our heads,” Mako eventually broke the silence, the quiet words hanging in the words between them, Junkrat’s fingers drifting towards the trigger. He sighed, finally meeting amber eyes. “I thought about it.”

“Going to hand me in then?” Junkrat demanded, no trace of his usual grin to be seen.

“No,” Mako replied shortly, trying to ignore the way the answer twisted in his chest. Instead, he got to his feet and cleared the table, dumping the dishes in the sink before heading for the door, hoping to busy himself outside and avoid the questions he could feel bubbling up in the burning gaze that followed him. Just as he slipped outside he heard Junkrat speak, voice uncommonly quiet and he had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to have heard.

 “I wonder how long that’ll last…”

 *

     The next few days were odd. Mako had come back in after spending the day searching for scrap, still unsure of whether he would be able to sell it in town as he had in the past, only to find that the kitchen and dishes had been cleaned. Although not without casualties he’d realised as he found broken dishes stuffed in amongst the rubbish, it was still a gesture of something. He grunted a ‘thanks’ to Junkrat when he ventured down for food again, still armed, but less on edge than he had been earlier.

     The strangeness continued. Junkrat didn’t change completely, in fact, Mako was convinced he was incapable of it as the constant chatter started up again barely a day later. However, he seemed to show a little more care with his choice of words, no longer insulting Mako with every other breath although there were still moments when that mocking edge would reappear. However, the fact that it was no longer a constant barrage meant that Mako had chance to catch his breath. There were even moments when he began to believe that maybe they could survive this strange coexistence.

 

****

     A few weeks had passed since Mako had come home hovering close to the edge of giving into temptation of collecting on the bounty for his head, and things between them were…settled. It almost felt as though the run-down farm house was becoming home, something that had him on edge, nearly as much as the thought of the much larger man trying to kill him. It was why he was uneasy today as he wandered the house, searching for something to occupy him.

The house was quiet, too quiet.

    He’s never done well with the quiet, it reminds him too much of being left behind, of being alone. It’s part of the reason why he’s so loud, almost desperate to fill the world around him with sound, even if it does get him into trouble.

     Mako is currently away in town replenishing their supplies, which means that he’s stuck here on his own. He’d tried to go into town with Mako the week before, the peace between them having finally reached a level where the bigger man hadn’t immediately pointed at the house and told him to stay, but it had nearly ended in disaster when someone had taken a pot-shot at him. Hell, he was only here because Mako had once again saved his skin, and it was that memory that had stilled his tongue when Mako had gestured for him to stay behind earlier.

    It didn’t mean he had to like it though, or that he wasn’t bored. He’d even take their old clashes over this, and he sighed, fiddling with a piece of wire he’d liberated from the old tractor out back. The vehicle didn’t work anymore, and Mako hadn’t said anything when he’d spied him fiddling with it, so he figured that meant that it was okay. A near miss with an old vase taught him that just because Mako didn’t say anything didn’t mean he was okay with things. Without a single word Mako had scooped him up, retrieved the vase and then tossed him out in the backyard, refusing to let him back in all afternoon. He’d peered through the window and seen the gentleness that Mako had showed as he checked the vase over, before setting it back precisely where it had come from. Whilst his expression never seemed to change, Junkrat had realised it meant something more to the other man.

    It turned out that with enough attention, he’d learnt to read the shifts in Mako’s body language, mapping out when to stay away from him and which words poked a little too deep, and he’d started avoiding them…unless it was one of those days when he wanted to provoke.

 It was one of those days.

     Whether it was boredom, or the creeping feeling of being abandoned, the restraint he’d been trying to develop was disappearing as it dawned on him that he was alone and that there was no Mako to stop him from exploring. There was a fleeting second of thought, but then a wicked grin spread across his face as he abandoned the wire and made a beeline for the stairs.

    There was stuff piled everywhere, and most of it was junk that he’d already nosed through at least once, but without Mako there to stop him- probably a sign of trust that he shouldn’t be abusing, but Junkrat had never claimed to be the most considerate of guests. He took the time to rummage deeper, rifling through drawers and cupboards, pocketing the odd piece of junk that could be useful later, but not really finding anything of interest.

    It wasn’t until he’d worked his way back downstairs and ventured into what looked like it had once been a family den, but now resembled yet another storeroom that he hit pay dirt. He’d been in here before of course, and he’d noted the old, discoloured rosettes hanging from a ribbon on the wall, as well as the distinctive marks that indicated where there had once been pictures. However, he hadn’t had chance to root through the cupboards, Mako always appearing and dragging him away the moment his fingers got close, and he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he opened the doors and began to dig through their contents.

     Most of it was rubbish, stuff that even he would be reluctant to keep and not for the first time he wondered about the quiet man’s refusal to throw stuff out. Sure, Junkrat loved junk, but it was useful junk, this was just…not. However, his ponderings came to a halt as his searching fingers closed on what seemed to be a case, and with a furtive glance behind him to make sure Mako hadn’t snuck up on him again he pulled on it. It was well jammed in, clearly hidden on purpose and it took him a few minutes to wrench it free, finally falling on his ass with it in his lap, grinning at it. “Bingo!”

     The hinges and clasp were stiff, clearly unused for some time, and he wasted precious time trying to ease it open, not wanting to leave evidence of his snooping, but finally it lay open in his lap. At first, he felt a wave of disappointment as he spied the piles of letters that were carefully tied together with string, and the blue rosette lying on top, golden writing faded. It wasn’t that he’d been expecting riches, but he’d been hoping for something more. However, as he began to paw through it, he felt a different kind of paper, and grasping the edge he found himself pulling out a pile of photos, slightly yellowed, but clearly treated with care over the years.

    Setting the case aside, he began to flip through the photos. It wasn’t hard to recognise the house which served as a backdrop for most of them, although it looked different…it looked like a home, warm and inviting, and tidy…and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Then there were the people. It was easy enough to recognise Mako in most of them, even in the ones that were clearly years old and Junkrat felt an odd pang as he stared at a young Mako standing out on the front porch, arms wrapped around a pig that was nearly the same size as him, a rosette clutched in one hand. The boy was smiling, revealing a missing tooth and were it not for the eyes, and something about the cheeks, Junkrat might have thought he was looking at a different person.

   There were other people in the pictures, men and women, children, all of whom bore a close enough resemblance to Mako to have been family and Junkrat had to keep reminding himself not to grip the photos too tightly. He no longer needed to wonder what had happened, the answer was written in the fact that there was no sign of these people in the house, their existence banished and yet treasured, and it was there in the way Mako was so protective of the things in the house. Mementos of a different life. Proof of what the Omnium and the devastation that had followed its fall had taken from them, and Junkrat swallowed, the quiet- the love of solitude- now making sense.

    Junkrat jumped as he was dragged out of his thoughts by the photos being plucked out of his fingers and looking up he swallowed hard as he realised Mako was stood there. The larger man was as expressionless as ever, but there was something in the delicate way he held the photos, finger brushing over the image that tells him that he’s touched something precious. He can’t or rather won’t apologise, even though he feels like he should say something as he watches Mako retrieving the case and carefully putting the photos back. However, beneath that feeling is a darker one, and as he watches the lid sliding back into place and hiding the images from sight he realises what it is.

   He’s jealous of the man that he had spent the last few weeks ridiculing and he doesn’t know what to make of that realisation. He’s not good at dealing with emotions like that, too used to masking everything with mischief and bravado. Perhaps that’s why the words slip out before he can stop them.

“…. I’m jealous.” He colours as he realises what he’s said. He hadn’t intended to say that, but it's too late to take it back now and Mako paused, one hand resting on top of the box, watching him with the same unreadable expression. Junkrat swallows, for the first time feeling truly small under that gaze before he points at the case. “I don’t have anything like that, all I have is memories and even they’re all jumbled.” Even he’s surprised by the longing in his voice, the bitterness that he so rarely lets out that he had almost forgotten that it existed. It’s not that knowing what he’d lost would be much better, especially if Mako was anything to go by, but it would be something.

   His gaze has moved to the ground, and when he finally hears Mako move again he can’t help but flinch, unsure of what to expect. It’s certainly not for a large hand to fill his vision, held out flat, almost in invitation and started he looks up, finding Mako leaning down to him, head tilted and watching him with a strange expression. It’s not the anger he’d been expecting, especially when he knew that he had pushed far more boundaries than he had before. It’s not disappointment or disgust at his words, at his confession. Instead it’s almost welcoming, and it takes him another minute of glancing between the outstretched hand and Mako’s expression, to realise that it’s an invitation.

That it’s acceptance.

    Mako, who has more reason that most to resent Junkrat’s presence, who’s probably the only person left in the world to have seen beneath the loud, obnoxious mask is giving him a chance. There’s a lump in his throat, the words for once refusing to come and maybe that’s a good thing, as he slowly reaches out, hesitating for a moment, searching for some sign of trick or trap before finally grasping Mako’s hand and feeling strong fingers closing on his. And for once the silence isn’t off-putting or indecipherable- it’s comfortable, welcoming and of course he has to break it, but for once his voice and words are soft.

“Thanks’ mate…”

***

    Mako glanced up from the book he was carefully sharpening as the table rocked, metal clanking as Junkrat tossed a pile of junk onto it. Some of it looked too fine to have been scrounged from around here, and Mako didn’t want to know where he’d stolen it from this time, instead he nudged it back towards Junkrat, clearing his workspace and grumbling at him. “Keep your stuff off the table!”

“I’m hurt!” Junkrat moaned, as dramatic as ever, but there was no wariness in his expression now as he grinned at Mako in what he clearly hoped was a winning expression. “I’m nothing if not a courteous houseguest.” Mako just stared at him, waiting for him to break as Junkrat had never managed to outlast him and sure enough barely a moment had passed before Junkrat threw his arms up in exasperation before obediently beginning to scoop his junk back off the table, muttering and grumbling under his breath and missing the slight smile that tugged at Mako’s lips as he turned his attention back to his work.

They’d found a balance.


End file.
